The Physical Education of NCIS
by KirolaiSemperFi
Summary: The NCIS Phys. Ed. Major High School Seniors ?


**DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never will be.**

_Tweet!_

The high school seniors looked up as their substitute gym teacher repeatedly blew on his whistle, motioning for everyone to stop talking, and come towards him.

"Hurry up!" The man said, waving his arm.

Slowly, the class heaved themselves up, walking awkwardly towards the man.

"C'mon! You guys can't move any faster?"

"We're coming! Stop yelling!" One kid shouted back as he slowly led his classmates. "Geez, what're we doing?"

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo looked up at the young adult, sizing him up with his green eyes. Of course, how could he forget? He'd studied physical education at Ohio, and the one thing he remembered learning: Kids love to have fun with substitute teachers!

"Where's Mr. Fraldin?" A girl asked.

"Sick," Tony lied. He couldn't exactly tell them that their ex-Naval officer gym teacher was currently a patient in Ducky's autopsy lab. "I'm obviously your sub."

"What do we call you, Mr. Sub?" Another boy asked.

"Mr. D."

"Mr. D?"

Tony clapped his hands. "Congratulations! You understand English! Bravo!" He took a look at his clipboard that had the names and pictures of every student in the class. "Matthew...Baton?"

"Yeah."

"Congratulations, Matthew, you're now gonna lead your class in stretching."

The seniors all laughed, looking at Tony as if he were crazy.

"Me?" Matthew swallowed his laughter. "Stretching? What are we, ten year olds? Who stretches?"

Tony sighed, putting the clipboard under his arm, holding it against his body. "You don't wanna stretch your muscles?"

A girl spoke up. "Who cares? It's not like we--"

"I don't recall calling on anybody!" Tony spoke, avoiding making eye contact with the girl. "Why is somebody speaking?"

Rolling her eyes, the girl put her hand up.

Tony looked around the class, dramatically avoiding the girl for a few seconds. When his eyes finally rested on her, he smiled. "Oh! And you are?"

"Tara. As I was saying--"

"Tara Swanson?" Tony interrupted.

"Yes."

"And what were you about to say?"

"We don't even do anything in this class! Why do we need to stretch?"

The class mumbled various forms of agreement.

Tony smiled. "Okay then...no stretching. But don't complain to me when you're all sore and numb." He took out the clipboard from his arm and pointed at Matthew. "Lead the class out to the track, Matthew."

"What for?"

Tony put the whistle into his mouth and blew the whistle. "Now!" He pointed towards the doors.

"Why--"

_Tweet!_

"Okay man, relax--"

_Tweet! Tweet! Tweee-ee-ee-ee-ee-eet!_

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The class stopped on the starting line of the outdoor track.

Tony took out his stopwatch that had been resting in his track coat pocket and twirled it around in front of him.

"What're we doing?" Matthew asked, turning to face Tony. "Sun salutations?"

The class laughed, but this time, Tony joined them in mocked laughter. Once the students realized this, they shut up.

"Laps!" Tony announced.

"How many?" Matthew challenged.

Tony pressed the clicker, not answering immediately.

"Yo, man!" Another boy waved a hand in his face. "How many laps?"

Tony yawned. "How much is a mile?"

"Four laps," someone answered.

"Eight laps!"

"What!?" The class uproared in complaints.

"Eight...laps!" Tony eyed his stopwatch. "You have twelve minutes starting from when I pressed this button, which was thirty-five seconds ago! Now go!"

The class reluctantly began to move, led by Matthew in the lead with his buddies.

"You're gonna hafta run faster!" Tony shouted from the starting line.

After Matthew finished his fifth lap, he faltered past Tony at the starting line. "Man, how many more laps?"

"Do the math, Matty!" Tony replied.

"But my legs hurt!"

"I told you to stretch," Tony said. "Your fault."

"Dude, I bet you can't run this long!"

Tony stiffened. "I was a Marine, Matthew. Of course I could."

Matthew laughed. "Marine? Yeah right? You can't even run a cross country mile or two!"

Tony smiled, his eyes sparkling with delight. "I'll take that bet, Matty."

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Gibbs pulled up at Glenbard High School, stepping out with Ziva and McGee.

"Where's Tony?" Ziva asked, looking around. "I thought he was subbing as a...gym teacher?"

"He is," Gibbs replied.

"So where is he?"

The three of them looked out across the empty track, but saw no sign of the senior field agent.

"Maybe he couldn't handle the kids?" McGee suggested. "I mean, come on! Tony, a teacher?"

Gibbs and Ziva smiled until a loud shout boomed form behind them. They all turned around to see Tony running towards them from the fields behind the school. Behind him were thirty students, gasping for air. Some were dragiing each other, others were power-walking, and one boy was trying to catch up to Tony. By the looks of the kid's face, it looked like he was about ready to tackle Tony.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs waved him over. "What're you doing?"

Tony smiled. "Marine training, Boss! These kids thought they could take on another two miles!"

Behind him, Matthew, along with some other buys, gathered around. They jumped into the air, taking Tony down with them. More students piled up on top of them; everyone tried getting a piece of the poor senior field agent.

"Shouldn't we do something?" Ziva asked.

"Nah," McGee said. "It's a basic senior gym tradition."

"Oh." Ziva observed thoughtfully. "They try preventing the teacher form breathing?" She looked at Gibbs.

The team leader smiled, nodding. "Yeah...Something like that."


End file.
